Love, in Progress

...you're the devil in disguise.

A/N: This hurt to write, so strap in,  stay safe out there guys <3

It was night time when a soft knock on his window alerted the Detective of Ricky's presence outside. Tinsley opened the window and moved back so the smaller man could clamber in.

"I still don't see why you insist on climbing in through my window." Tinsley queried.
"We're not really supposed to be seen together, Tins."
"Oh, and climbing in through my bedroom window is supposed to be less suspicious?"
"Smartass" Ricky mumbled under his breath, kicking off his shoes and relaxing onto Tinsley's bed.

"You flatter me" Tinsley quipped.
"You're an absolute bitch" Ricky sighed, "It's lucky I tolerate you".
"Tolerate?" Tinsley gasped mockingly.
"Barely", Ricky grinned, "So, what's crackalackin' Detective? Any particular reason you asked me to come over tonight, other than the fact that you missed me horrifically?" Ricky asked, batting his eyelashes seductively.

"Yeah, there's a reason, you're not going to like it though" Tinsley replied, rubbing his hands together and sitting down on the bed next to Ricky.
"Oh it can't be that bad you drama queen" Ricky mused, rolling his eyes.
"I'm not sure you understand what-"
"Spit it out Tinman, we don't got all night!" Ricky interrupted playfully.

"Well, I know who stabbed Miss Horsely" Tinsley stated.
"Okay, not to sound rude, but why are you telling me this?" Ricky asked, leaning forward into a patch of moonlight.

"It was your brother, Miguel." Tinsley muttered apprehensively. Ricky was silent. Tinsley watched nervously as Ricky sat still, making no movements or reactions, his face illuminated by the light from the moon. The smaller man was a statue: perfectly carved features, his emotions vague and unreadable.

"Ricky?" Tinsley asked anxiously.

Ricky finally turned to Tinsley, his eyes cold and unyielding. The detective suddenly felt very small and had to break eye contact for fear of having his soul ripped out.

"I.. uh- had my suspicions, but I didn't want to say anything until I knew for-" Tinsley suddenly found himself pinned down, the smaller man's hands constricting around the Detective's neck.

"I could snap your neck right now", Ricky whispered in a low, husky voice, "And nobody would be able to touch me."
Tinsley wheezed, hand closing tightly around the smaller man's wrist, "Ricky I can't-"

Ricky's grip only tightened. "Nobody disrespects my family and gets away with it. I should've known better than to trust a Detective, I should have killed you when you first arrived."
"But I-"

"Shut up. I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to turn me against my own family, divide and conquer. Well, it isn't going to work now, is it?", Ricky hissed, "You Detectives are all the same, aren't you? You think you're so smart- you think you can get the better of us?! Nobody gets the better of me" Ricky snapped.

"Ricky, I'm-"
"That's Mr Goldsworth to you, Detective"
"I can't-" Tinsley inhaled sharply.
"What? Sorry I couldn't hear that, can you speak up?" Ricky mocked cruelly.
"I can't breathe."
"...good."

A couple of minutes later, Ricky climbed out of the window and dropped down onto the pavement below (it was only a small drop, so he was uninjured). He was, however, thoroughly pissed off.

Ricky had loved the detective. The kind of crazy, head over heels love that he'd never felt before. It had been bliss while it lasted. But he felt betrayed, and incredibly conflicted. What felt even worse was the guilt knawing away at him. He actually hurt him, he actually hurt Tinsley. For a moment Ricky considered going back inside, to check (again) if Charlie was alright. He decided against it, instead walking across town to Francesca's apartment.

Francesca opened the door to a very unsettled Ricky, his hair a mess, and his eyes glossy with tears. Francesca quickly pushed him into her apartment and closed the door.

"What happened this time?" She asked with a sigh. Ricky broke down, wafting his hands around, trying to enunciate a sentence.
"Okay, okay, breathe, what's going on?" Francesca comforted. She guided Ricky to the sofa, before sitting down next to him.

"Charlie he- he didn't love me, it was an act. He didn't love me" Ricky managed between gasps.
"That bastard- what's he done?!"
"He- he was trying to drive a wedge between me and Miguel, claimed Miguel stabbed Horsely, hoping we'd kill each other and bring down the Goldsworths with us."
"He said that?!"
"Well, it was subtext" Ricky sniffled, leaning against Francesca, "I think I've made a mistake, Fran." Ricky admitted quietly.

"You didn't.. he isn't...?" Fran questioned.
"He's not dead, but he's- I can't imagine him forgiving me." Ricky sniffled.
"I think we need to get you home, then we can call Miguel tomorrow and get to the bottom of this, okay?" Fran advised softly.
Ricky sniffed, wiping a few tears away, "Okay."